The Commander's Sacrifice
by Jeune Chat
Summary: When The Commander falls, Jonathan Boy is there to pick up the pieces, and he's never been so scared in his life... Jonathan-Josie, for ladyisme's Challenge.


**Author's Note:** This is for ladyisme's Josie/Jonathan challenge, which I shall reproduce here:

_(1) Paring **MUST** be Josie Stronghold/Jonathan Boy of course. _

_(2) Time line: Whenever. Thats right for this challenge you can go as far forward or back in time as need be, just make it work. _

_(3) You must keep the canon. In other words you must make your story fit into the same universe as the movie, you can't create a new reality where the events of the movie never take place. Before you say impossible, remember that you have a very flexible time line to work with you can go back and make them childhood sweet hearts, go forward and make Josie widow, or if all else fails resort to an affair. I have full confidence in you, make it work. _

_(4) Bonus: Bonus points will be given if you can give the reaction of Will and/or the gang on this pairing._

I ended up with a lot more Jonathan than Josie, and it's pretty much all from Jonathan's point of view, but I wanted to get inside Jonathan's head a bit. Please do let me know if you like it, don't like it, or what can be improved.

Those who've read my story War and Peace In Mind might recognize some of the "landscape" and minor characters, though these two stories are not connected in any way. I just borrowed some aspects of that world to use in this tale.

* * *

**The Commander's Sacrifice**

If he'd been watching TV, he'd have seen it as soon as it happened. If he hadn't turned off his phone for the night, he would have gotten the frantic calls from his friends. And if everyone else hadn't been glued to his or her television sets, someone probably would have come over to commiserate. But as it was, he saw it on the front page the next morning. Seventy-two point Railroad Gothic, Second Coming print as they called it, screamed from the paper when he opened the door. It was the kind of size reserved for the most surprising and momentous tragic occasions: the destruction of the Hindenburg, the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the attack on the World Trade Center, and now the death of The Commander.

**THE COMMANDER'S SACRIFICE**

Jonathan Boy stared at the paper without comprehension for several minutes, not even noticing that he had managed to lock himself outside in his bathrobe. Again.

Dead? How could The Commander, Steve Stronghold, be _dead?_ He'd been the toughest, most indestructible superhero Jonathan had ever met, next to his son Will. And even if he hadn't worked with Steve for close to twenty years, just watching Will in action over the past four years had reminded him of just how much punishment a Stronghold could take.

Heedless of the rain-wet concrete soaking through his slippers, Jonathan began to read the article, ignoring for the moment the host of memorial pieces surrounding the main story. Full comprehension escaped him in his haste, but a few words jumped out at him, and the story revealed itself quickly. Nitro Blast had gotten control of some nuclear missiles. The Commander and Jetstream had been called to action in Canada. There had been a struggle. One of the missiles had been launched. Jetstream had flow after it, carrying The Commander, and he had attempted to punch it out of the atmosphere. Something had gone wrong, there had been a minor explosion and Jetstream had nearly fallen out of the sky, critically injured-.

Jonathan's heart skipped a beat and he forced himself to continue. There had been a second explosion later, high above the atmosphere. Somehow The Commander had ridden the missile high enough to detonate it harmlessly, at the cost of his own life. His son Guardian had managed to catch his mother, capture Nitro Blast and, with help from previously unknown heroes, had disarmed the missiles…

Heart in his throat, Jonathan grabbed one of his six spare keys from its hiding place under the doormat and hurled himself back into his home, tossing the paper aside. A half-second later he was changed, legacy of nearly thirty years of sidekick quick-change experience, and a minute later was in his car, breaking all kinds of speed limits. Only one thing mattered now; Josie Stronghold was in the superhero hospital on the brink of death and he had to help her.

The herd of reporters was being turned away from the Bureau of Superpowered Affairs even as Jonathan arrived, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Granted, he hadn't been the Commander's sidekick for over twenty years, had never revealed his secret identity, and had totally changed his hairstyle, but on a day like today every single person that had anything to do with superheroes was out in force. He didn't think he would be able to stand pushing through a crowd of reporters wanting to know his opinion and feelings on Steve's death.

A small corner of his mind idly commented that there had been times when he would have sold his soul to be at the center of media attention. But right now that didn't matter to him at all.

Stern-faced men and women in dark suits, Bureau agents that helped protect the private lives of superheroes, chivvied off the reporters, rubberneckers, and other vultures with emotionless faces. Jonathan managed to get to the wall of suits without fanfare; he might barely be remembered for being All-American Boy, but he had over ten years of being a respected educator at Sky High, and had personally taught Steve and Josie's son. Maybe they'd recognize him from that. If they'd just let him through, he had to see if he could help…

"Mr. Boy?"

A deep voice shook him from his reverie. The agents all seemed to be cut from the same mold, powerful men and women in stark suits, faces hidden by dark glasses, hair cut short, and no expression on their taut faces; he couldn't even remember the name of the one in front of him. The loud questions of reporters weren't even being acknowledged, and the sound crashed around them both like surf. A tiny island of quiet surrounded them as one male agent looked down at him.

The agents knew him; he was not someone to stand around and gawk or to ask awkward and painful questions. Two decades of living a remarkably quiet life had given Jonathan Boy a reputation as being reliable and trustworthy, not flashy or famous. The last thing the Stronghold family needed right now was more disruption.

Jonathan saw an expression of approval on the man's face as he was looked over, but couldn't quite fathom why.

"Ah…" Jonathan wasn't exactly sure what to say, but finally blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I'm here to help-." He cut off the final word as the agent let him through abruptly. He dashed up the stairs to renewed shouts from the reporters, letting the sound fade behind him. He stole a look behind, and took a half-second to wonder that he had spotted at least five other out-of-costume superheroes in the crowd as well, all of them contemporaries of the Strongholds. But the agents had only let him through. Then he had no more time to think, cursing the elevator's slowness as it took him up to the hospital wing.

More agents were guarding the elevator, but they stepped aside as he barreled through, nearly running into Will Stronghold and his gang of friends and fellow superheroes. Young Will had shot up like a weed in the nearly four years Jonathan had known him, and now, only a month from graduation, he was easily taller than Steve-. Jonathan stopped and corrected himself mentally, his thoughts still chaotic. Had been. Taller than Steve had been.

And Josie was hurt.

"Mr. Boy!" Will exclaimed in relief, turning to catch his teacher and keep him from running into Warren. Layla, Ethan, Magenta, and Zack were also in the exalted inner circle, their faces strained and tear-stained. Belatedly Jonathan realized these kids had just come back from their first mission, other than the older and more experienced Warren, since Royal Pain's Homecoming attack. They had seen two of the world's greatest heroes fall, again. This was the second time they'd had to do something no one else could do, but this time everything hadn't come out all right. They'd lost their first person. And Will had lost his father. The world had lost its two greatest heroes in a single stroke.

But Josie was still alive.

"Will, I came as soon as I heard, how is she? Are you all ok?" Jonathan asked, his eyes darting to the room behind Will, seeing the vague form of someone behind a privacy curtain through the doorway.

Will looked terribly tired and far older than his eighteen years as he responded.

"She got burned and broke her arms. Ethan found booby traps on the other missiles when he disarmed them. Dad didn't-," Will broke off, struggling a second for control. "Dad didn't find out until it was too late. I caught her, but by then it was over."

"Thank God you were there-," Jonathan started, only to be interrupted by the insistent chirping of a phone.

"Can't they leave you alone for a _second?_" Layla exclaimed, her pale face flushed with rage. Will sadly shook his head and pulled out his red emergency phone to answer it. Within a few seconds he said something in sharp agreement and snapped the phone shut.

"They need us," he said almost helplessly, clenching his empty fist hard enough to whiten the knuckles. It occurred to Jonathan that if Steve had shown the same anger the phone would have been reduced to shards. When he thought of all the items that had been inadvertently lost to The Commander's temper over the years, his respect for Steve's son increased. Maybe it was Josie's influence…

"Who is it?" Warren asked, breaking into Jonathan's thoughts.

"Magmatronic. He's over in Washington threatening to blow Mt. St. Helens again," Will said tightly.

"Don't they know what just happened?" Layla demanded. "Can't someone else handle it just this once?"

"No," Ethan said softly, and Layla stared at him. "Layla, The Commander was the only one ever able to handle Magmatronic."

And now Will, despite the fact that he was only eighteen, had to fill both of his parents' shoes, ready or not, despite the fact that his father had died less than twenty-four hours before and his mother was in critical condition.

"We're coming with you," Magenta said flatly, Layla nodding in stern agreement.

"Yeah, you need us dude," Zack added.

"We'd be glad to help," Ethan piped up.

"And you're not leaving without me either," Warren said, crossing his arms.

Jonathan felt his heart swell with pride as the kids who had been labeled sidekicks fearlessly readied themselves to defend the world. Though the curriculum had been nearly evened out since Will's freshman year, Jonathan still felt a bit proprietary and proud about those that had had to live with the sidekick label, for however long or short.

Will's chin rose as he regarded his friends, and everyone could tell he was blinking back tears.

"Thanks," he managed, and everyone scattered to get dressed. Jonathan resigned himself to a long wait until the doctors decided to come out. He doubted he'd get any information out of them; he wasn't family, but he couldn't stand sitting at home. At least he could keep a kind of vigil…

"Mr. Boy?" Will said, and Jonathan looked up at him in surprise. "Please look after my mom. I don't know how long I'm going to be gone."

"Will I-. Of course I will," Jonathan managed. He wanted to give him some kind of encouragement, but what could he offer? Will's impervious father had just died and now here his son was going off into battle again.

"I need-. If they doctors need someone to decide anything, could you do it?" Will asked quickly. Jonathan was stunned at the weight of the responsibility. The Strongholds didn't have any family left besides a few distant cousins, and Josie's only living relative, her mom, was senile and in a nursing home. But why him? Why not someone like Principle Powers or the Bureau director?

"Yes, anything you need," he found himself saying.

"Thanks," Will said, looking over his shoulder at the assembling members of his team. "I know you'll take care of her."

With those astonishing words, Will strode off, tears standing in his eyes that he could not yet afford to shed.

Jonathan turned back to Josie's room the second Will was out of sight. Will, he was certain, would come back victorious. Magmatronic might have taken this moment to strike, hoping The Commander's death would have thrown the superhero world into a tailspin, but he didn't know about Will. He didn't know that Will, or rather Guardian, didn't let personal tragedy paralyze him. And with his friends with him to take care of any kind of the nasty surprises that had felled his father, Jonathan had complete confidence in all of them.

Soberly Jonathan reflected that Will and his friends would get very little time to mourn. Any villain with a hint of intelligence would be taking this time to strike, and Will and his gang would have to be at the forefront of many of the emergency calls. Not to mention that The Commander's funeral would be a huge event, and poor Will would have to be on public display not only as the grieving son, but also as the strong promise that the citizens would not be deprived of their two greatest protectors. He'd be replacing both of his parents for the foreseeable future, and the public wouldn't accept the fact that someone as strong as Guardian needed time to himself.

He would have very little time for his injured mother either. Jonathan knew panic as he considered that Will's request to take care of his mom might not have been just for the next few hours, but through the attendant media circus to come. In high school Jonathan would have been delighted at the thought of spending hours with Josie, but now older the idea alternately pleased and terrified him.

Jonathan would be lying if he denied he had feelings, strong ones, for Josie Stronghold. He'd worshiped her from afar at Sky High, but had easily been outshone by the other boys in school. And when Josie had met Steve again a few years later, Jonathan had been easily overlooked for the more handsome, confident, and dashing Steve. Maybe Josie wouldn't _want_ to see him, to be reminded of the fact that he had been Steve's sidekick. Would she hate him for having to stay nearby, reminding her of her loss?

Jonathan's own feelings about Steve weren't an issue right now; the man had done a job no one else could do, and if he had overlooked certain things, it was probably to the betterment of the world. Steve had been an excellent hero, always concerned with the big picture, but with little time or inclination to attend to details. Like his sidekick. Jonathan had remembered the countless little things he'd done to keep The Commander's life running smoothly only to have them mostly ignored or forgotten. And it had hurt when Will had first come to Sky High and Jonathan had realized that Will had no idea who he was; that for all fourteen years of Will's life Jonathan had never come up even in casual conversation.

But that wasn't the point. When reminded, which wasn't that often, Steve had been unfailingly appreciative. He had been the greatest hero on the planet, and Jonathan considered it a privilege to have helped him. It didn't matter than Steve had been absentminded and sometimes unintentionally callous about other people around him. He'd never, ever been malicious. He'd been a great hero, and a good husband and father. Jonathan could only try to honor that by doing the best he could for Josie. Steve Stronghold, The Commander, was dead. Jonathan would do his best to tend to the living.

"Mr. Boy?" someone said. Looking up to the door to Josie's room, a nurse beckoned him forward. "Guardian said you have the power to make medical decisions for Jetstream."

"Yes, he just told me. When did he tell you that?" Jonathan asked, momentarily distracted from a hundred other critical concerns. Will had left straight away; when had he found the time to mention that detail to a doctor?

"When she was first brought in. He said he knew you'd be here as soon as you heard the news."

Bemused, he followed her into the room, eyes locked to the moving forms behind the curtain. In a moment the nurse went and spoke to someone behind the barrier, and finally the crane-headed, white-feathered form of Dr. Egret emerged. Unlike most superpowered beings, Egret had the power to do some minor healing of injuries, and was a specialist in superpowered trauma. And if she was working on Josie, then things were very bad indeed.

"Mr. Boy, I have news for you. Jetstream suffered severe burns to her hands and less severe burns to her face. Both of her radii and ulnas were broken, as well as most of her fingers, and she dislocated her right elbow and both shoulders. She also apparently inhaled some of the fire from the explosion, which did cause extensive internal burns to her lungs and trachea.

"She also suffered a concussion from the explosion and has been unconscious for the past seven hours. I managed to heal the worst of the burn damage, and her breathing is no longer a critical concern, but it was touch-and-go for quite a while. Unfortunately, I can't do any fast healing of the bones or stretched ligaments of the joints, and any lasting damage to the brain will have to wait until she regains consciousness."

Jonathan listened in silence to the long list of injuries, and could feel his eyes growing wider and wider with each new injury. _She wouldn't let go,_ he thought, realizing what all those injuries together meant. _She wouldn't let Steve go until she was blasted away. My God, she nearly died with him!_

"What-?" he paused and swallowed. "What does that mean for her?"

"For the moment, we don't know how her mind is going to be when she wakes up. She might have memory loss or more extensive brain injury. Purely physically, she's going to have to be cared for until her arms and hands heal. She's not going to be able to take care of herself for at least a month and a half, if not longer. It's not necessary for her to stay in the hospital for all of that; we can send a nurse to help her at home… unless the brain injury is worse than I suspect."

Dr. Egret shook her head; her beady black bird's eyes wet with tears, and clacked her long curved beak in frustration.

"God help me, I can only really handle skin-deep injuries. I kept her from scarring inside and out, on her skin at least," she said with a knowing look. Steve's death could be the worse possible thing for her recovery, but it would have to be dealt with too. "I can help her heal more efficiently, but we had to operate and put pins in her broken bones to hold them together. Her joints are back in place, but it's going to be days before the ligaments and tendons contract back to their normal size. Other than helping with infection, I'm only as good as any other doctor now Jonathan. It's going to be up to Josie whether she can get through this or not."

"She will," Jonathan said quickly, without even thinking. "She's very strong."

"I hope so," Egret said, and sighed. "You can go see her now. Maybe it'll help if she knows she has good friends close by-."

Jonathan didn't even hear the rest of it. The second he'd been given permission, he was behind the curtain. He caught his breath again as he stared at her. Josie was nearly as pale as the sheets around her, her hair dark against her pillow. Huge swaths of bandages and casts encased her arms up to the shoulders, carefully strapped in pulleys to keep them still, needles inserted high in one arm, and her head was wrapped in bandages. Her face and what he could see of her hands were shiny pale pink with healing skin, and the rest of her was buried beneath blankets.

Aside from a potted plant that Jonathan recognized as something from Layla Williams, there were no get-well cards yet. He was sure there were truckloads coming, but right now her room looked so bare, devoid of personality, just like Josie might be if she never woke up-.

Jonathan abruptly stopped that thought in its tracks. Josie would get better. She had to. Swallowing a lump of uncertainty in his throat, he pulled up a chair to Josie's bedside. He didn't dare take one of her injured hands, and so folded his own in his lap and tried to concentrate hard on the fact that Josie _would_ get well.

A glitter on the bedside table distracted him momentarily, and he spied her diamond-inlaid gold engagement ring and wedding band, laid out of the way of the doctors. He stared at them for a long moment, took a deep breath, and just shoved it all away. Josie needed him, maybe for the first time. Or at least she needed _someone_, and Jonathan would gladly take up the task.

* * *

He started awake sometime later, a crick in his neck that he tried to frantically rub away. What had woken him? There was a faint sound from the bed, and he bounded to his feet. Josie's face was wet with tears, sliding almost soundlessly from her cheeks as tiny, half-choked sobs issued from her throat.

_She's dreaming… or having a nightmare,_ Jonathan realized with pang of compassion, and grabbed a soft tissue to gently wipe the tears away from her raw and sensitive skin. Her breath choked again, and her eyes fluttered open, dark with pain.

"Josie?" he breathed uncertainly. Would she recognize him? Did she know where she was?

"Jonathan? What happened?" she rasped, her throat still raw from the healing burns.

"You… you were hurt," he managed, not daring to hope that she was all right. Would it be more of a kindness if she didn't remember? He couldn't decide what he would have wanted to know himself.

"I remember Canada… and Nitro, the missiles," she said slowly, confused, and then her face crumpled in pain, cruel knowledge written in every line. She remembered everything.

"Will saved you, and his friends stopped Nitro Blast. No one else was hurt," he said quickly. He wouldn't belabor what must be the most painful part, not when Josie's eyes were filling with tears that she couldn't even wipe away herself. Frantically he grabbed tissues from the table to help her blot her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, turning her face to the side. "Steve would-." Her words came to a halt as she tried to face the fact that her husband would no longer be at her side.

Jonathan knew she would be told, ad nauseum, until the day she died, about how much of a hero Steve had been, of what his sacrifice had meant to people, of how loved he had been by the whole world. But Josie had just lost her husband and Will had lost his father. The loss of The Commander in all of that was almost trivial. So he said the only thing he could think of.

"Steve would have never left you or Will unless he had to," he blurted out. Josie blinked and looked at him in astonishment. She'd been expecting the usual platitudes, and to hear something actually heartfelt seemed to give her strength, even if it just helped confirm that Steve was gone.

"Thank you," she whispered, and swallowed hard. She looked around, trying to distract herself, and suddenly got a puzzled expression on his face.

"Where's Will?" she asked.

"Magmatronic," Jonathan explained quickly. "He wants to blow Mt. St. Helens again."

"Him again," Josie muttered, and took a shuddering breath. "Steve had to punch him to Antarctica and back before he'd behave." Jonathan was silent as he could see Josie struggling not to break down again, and then fail.

Everything was going to remind her of her loss for the next several weeks, or months, or years. Jonathan had never lost a loved one in such a fashion, or nearly. That night nearly four years ago when Jetstream had been Pacified and he'd leapt to save her, had been the only time he'd felt anything akin to the horror and loss she must be feeling now. But he couldn't just leap in and save her this time.

He didn't know what to do. He remembered learning things in Superhero Psychology for Sidekicks that were supposed to help encourage your hero in their time of need, but it all seemed simplistic and useless. What might be a strengthening quip in a battlefield situation seemed too facile and disrespectful here. Should he try to sympathize? Should he distract her?

He couldn't stand to see Josie crying, and that decided him.

"Maybe the news will have some cameras on Magmatronic," he said quickly, and Josie quickly sniffed back the worst of her tears. She looked glad for the distraction and nodded cautiously, wincing in pain. Jonathan fumbled with the controls, finally getting the TV on and finding at least three news stations with cameras on the scene.

They watched mostly in silence, as Guardian and his fellow heroes penetrated Magmatronic's crawling lair, sabotaging his systems as vines and fire erupted from every door and vent. Guardian's dramatic mid-air fistfight was over fast, Magmatronic being totally unprepared for someone with both of Will's parents' powers… and with enough friends on the ground to keep the villain from calling in any reinforcements.

Jonathan was only watching the fight with half of his attention, being more interested in seeing Josie's reactions than anything else. She actually cracked a smile at her son's skill, whispering encouragement under her breath as he swiftly brought the dangerous supervillain under control. Jonathan knew it really wasn't about Will winning the fight; it was more about Will coming home at all. It was about something good happening, something that she could hold onto, when right now she couldn't hold anything.

Jonathan wanted to help her himself, he would hold her if she'd let him, but he didn't dare dream that far ahead. She was a widow, and respected her too much to think about that right now. It was enough to sit beside her.

He turned off the TV at the end of the broadcast, after Guardian had managed to bypass the usual gauntlet of reporters, must to their consternation, because they had to find something else to fill the time. Will would pay for this indulgence later; the media would have to be satisfied somehow. At least Josie would be spared for a little while she recovered.

Biting his lip, awkward in the silence, Jonathan finally got up. Will would be here any moment, and he didn't want to intrude. Best to look like he was ready to go, if mother and son wanted time alone.

"Jonathan," Josie spoke finally, her voice still weak and croaking. "Stay here, please. I… don't want to be alone."

"Of course I will," he said quickly, sitting back down. Without asking this time, he reached over to blot the tears from her eyes, and she smiled a little at him. Jonathan thought his heart would melt from the sad and tender expression on her face.

Neither of them noticed Will in the doorway behind him, face still soot-stained from his battle with Magmatronic. Quietly he withdrew again. He'd seen his mother awake and smiling, and he wouldn't intrude on that for anything.

* * *

A day later Jonathan found himself in his old sidekick costume, sitting outside in the full sunlight for The Commander's memorial service. Josie couldn't attend because Dr. Egret refused to release her from the hospital, so Jonathan had felt obligated to go. Will would be reading both his own and his mother's eulogy for his father, and Jonathan had thought, for a few panicked moments, that he'd be required to read one too.

He'd had one ready for The Commander by the time he'd graduated from Sky High; it was one of those lesser-know duties of sidekicks. But with Will up on the podium, along with dozens of other luminaries from the superhero community, the words of one aging sidekick who'd worked with The Commander for just under five years would have been superfluous.

However, Jonathan knew he had to attend. Somehow, sometime, Steve had named him as one of his pallbearers. Why give him that honor when he had fellow heroes galore more than eager for it? Could the oft-clueless Steve have actually remembered he had a sidekick when he was writing that down? Jonathan didn't know, and by the slightly confused expressions on people's faces, they didn't know either. Taking a deep breath, Jonathan Boy prepared to do his last duty to The Commander.

* * *

The ceremony was long; with so many people wanting to honor The Commander, there was no way to spare even his family the long speeches and tributes. The whole thing was as public as a funeral for a president, with no relief from the media. Jonathan didn't know how Will was holding up under all the strain… but he guessed it had to be the presence of his friends. His classmates, now his teammates and fellow superheroes, formed a solid wedge of bodies between him and any reporter that sought to get a sound byte for the six o'clock news.

Still, they tried, and their insistence on trying to get to Guardian thankfully prevented them from questioning more of The Commander's friends and co-workers. Jonathan made good his escape as soon as he could.

He'd shed no tears for The Commander, though he'd honestly say he had felt sad as any other citizen or hero. But Jonathan had others things to tend to now.

For years he'd lived in the past, reveling in his past reflected glory. It had been Will's arrival at Sky High that had help break his obsession (yes, he'd even admitted it to himself) with his former hero. It was Steve himself who'd done it actually, on the night of Royal Pain's attack, telling Jonathan that he was doing a great job just teaching the children. Of course, Josie's kiss of thanks for saving her had helped too.

Jonathan could feel the blood rising to his face as he found an out-of-the-way corner to change back into citizen clothes. Poor Josie…

"Mr. Boy!" Jonathan whipped his head around to find the source of the call, startled to see young Will and his friends rapidly gaining on him. Somehow they'd already managed to shake the press and get out of their costumes, and Jonathan was pretty startled that they were actually seeking _him_ out. Will should take the time to mourn privately; God knew he would get little enough time to himself in the coming weeks.

"Mr. Boy, I have to talk to you, I need your help," Will said the second he was in conversational distance. That brought Jonathan up short. He could recall the precise number of times Steve had asked him for help. Zero. Steve was always certain he could do everything perfectly well on his own. That didn't prevent Jonathan from undertaking countless tasks to try to help on his own, but he'd never been asked, never been told he was needed.

Briefly, Jonathan thought that made Will stronger than his father. It took great strength to admit weakness.

"Of course, anything you need," Jonathan said quickly. What he'd given The Commander out of awe, he'd happily give Will out of respect.

"It's my mom, she's fine," Will hastened to add, seeing the stricken expression on Jonathan's face. "Look, my emergency phone's been ringing off the hook. I don't think I'm going to be able to stay around here very long; it's like every single supervillain just crawled out of the sewer at once-. But, um, I'm not going to be able to be there for my mom. I mean, she has her friends, but most of them are heroes too and they're going to be pretty busy. And those that aren't heroes can't come to the hospital. _You_ know Mom, and you're always here, and you know what happened, and you won't hurt her, so can you stay with her and help her?" The last came out in quite a rush, and Jonathan's eyes widened.

He'd rushed to the hospital to make sure Josie was ok, but he had fully expected to be co-opted by her son or her close friends. It hadn't quite hit him that everyone was going to be as busy as Will in the weeks to come. There would have been a time when he would have slung on his cape and waded into the fray with the rest of them, but not now. A few years ago, after a particularly embarrassing freelance sidekick stint, Veronica Powers, the Sky High principal, had called him into her office.

"Jonathan, I need to be brutally frank with you. You're a good teacher. A wonderful teacher. Enthusiastic, very knowledgeable about your source material, plenty of field experience, and you have a good rapport with your students. You're a great teacher," she'd said, and then taken a deep breath. "You're worth a hundred times more as a teacher than as a sidekick. You were _wasted _as a sidekick."

There would have been a time, probably anytime before Will Stronghold had come to Sky High, when Jonathan would have bristled at the thought that he was wasted as a sidekick. He had considered it a noble cause. But now… His powers weren't anything to write home about. He was, perhaps, a little stronger, a little tougher, a little more agile than one might think to look at him, but no more than that.

The principle's words, combined with The Commander's statement on that Homecoming night, had finally made him realize he could stop trying to be something that he wasn't any longer. His cape would stay at home; he wouldn't rush to throw himself into the coming superbattles. Better he be a good teacher than a third-rate, aging sidekick who wouldn't let the past go.

But he wasn't even going to be a teacher for the next four months. Due to The Commander's death as well as the fact that it was already May, school was being dismissed early. Seniors would be graduated, granted their hero's licenses, and probably throw themselves into the fray as much as Will and his friends were. Unexpectedly Jonathan was at loose ends. He didn't have any plans he could plead to, no hero work, no tutoring, nothing to prevent him from accepting Will's offer.

And that scared him to death. Of course he would be willing to help Josie, there was no question there, but what Will was talking about was not just for a day, he was talking weeks, for however long it took for this surge of villainy to die down. Jonathan was terrified that he'd let something slip to Josie about how he felt during all that potential time, or that she'd grow to resent him if he stuck around too long. If he was only there occasionally, there was less of a chance she'd grow to hate him, surely. Fear made him open his mouth to refuse, to suggest someone else.

"Of course I will," he heard himself say. _Wait, what did I just do?_

"Thank you," Will said fervently, looking relieved. "The doctors said something about a week before she can go home-." His explanations were cut off as Layla called for him. He looked up to see his friends approaching, Layla holding a red emergency phone in one hand. Sighing, Will nodded and turned back one last time.

"Tell her I'm sorry I can't be here and that I love her and I'll be careful," he said quickly, and dashed off to the others. Jonathan stared after them, still stunned by his own actions, and saw Guardian take to the sky, his friends and fellow heroes cradled in a vine harness around him.

Blinking in confusion, Jonathan found his way to his car, and his car managed to find its way to the hospital. And somehow, without any interference from his head, his body managed to find its way into the hospital wing. Swallowing gibbering fear, Jonathan finally managed to step the rest of the way up to the nurse's station on his own initiative.

"May I talk to Josie Stronghold?"

* * *

Jonathan stood in the Stronghold's backyard, hands clasped behind his back to hide their shaking. Today was the day Josie was returning to her home, and she'd requested that he'd be there. He'd been unable to refuse, not when she looked at him like that.

He told himself over and over again that this was no different from the hospital, but he couldn't quite convince his butterfly-filled stomach of that. Over the past week, he'd been able to lose some of the nervousness he'd always felt around Josie. And it killed him to think he'd never found the courage to even speak to her more than in passing until Steve's death. Even badly injured and suffering from grief, she was the finest woman Jonathan had ever known.

Though she had cried, and cried often, in Jonathan's presence, she always seemed to have enough strength to force her tears back when other people came into the room to talk to her. And she did not weep in pain, or for the long road of recovery ahead of her. Nor did she scream or curse or rage, all of which Jonathan could remember other heroes doing in times of extreme crisis. She was sad, angry, and had lost a great deal, but she was not breaking under the pressure.

And for some reason, she seemed to draw strength from Jonathan's constant presence at her bedside. Each time he tried to find a tactful excuse to withdraw, assuming she'd want some time alone, she'd insisted he'd stay. And he really didn't know why. Maybe she was just afraid of being alone. Maybe it was because when people saw that Jonathan was there they didn't babble on about The Commander so much. Maybe his presence was helping shield her from… something. He wasn't sure, but since she seemed to want him there, he was willing to stay.

But that was in the hospital, neutral ground, not here, not her home. All his old nervousness was back as he waited next to the garage. Like most superhero homes, the backyard was enclosed, in the Stronghold's case with high hedges. Jonathan hoped that would keep prying eyes out. It would take a little more than a casual view by a neighbor to spot Josie coming home.

Officially, Steven Stronghold had died in the same car accident that had sent his wife to the hospital. Also, officially, the funeral and memorial services had been held in his hometown out-of-state, to prevent neighbors from trying to attend. It was thought that it would have been far too hard on any superhero to have to go through two funerals, and this kind of contrivance was fairly common. Jonathan, on the other hand, thought that a second funeral might have actually helped Josie. At least she might have been able to attend one that had been held later, and been able to show some public grief. As it was, she only had dozens of sympathy cards from her cover job co-workers and neighbors.

Those neighbors didn't need to know Josie was back home yet. Still on heavy pain medication, no one, Josie included, wanted her to make a slip-up as to her real identity. Hence, Will had insisted that it was perfectly all right for him to stay over, if he needed, to make sure his mom was doing all right. And even though Jonathan had agreed (with far more than butterflies in his stomach from doing so), he definitely didn't want the neighbors to know that some strange man was in Josie's house.

A rumble from the alley proved to be a van from the hospital bringing Josie home. Jonathan strained for a look of her as Josie's nurse, Jill, parked and slowly opened the door. No longer as pale, and head now free of bandages, most of Josie's upper body was still thick with casts, wraps, and splints. As she looked up at her house, Jonathan could see her expression twist in pain. But the moment she caught sight of Jonathan, lurking in the shadows of the garage, Josie's expression softened.

"Thanks for being here," she said softly. Jill helped Josie out of the van, helping prop her up as a wave of dizziness hit. Jonathan made an abortive move forward; injured as Josie was, Jill could only support her by putting her arms around her waist. And Jonathan thought he might pass out if asked to do that.

"Jonathan, can you help unload the van while I get Josie inside? Thanks," Jill said quickly. Released from his own uncertainty, Jonathan bent to unloading the boxes and bags with a will, eyes still drawn to watching the two women slowly shuffle inside the house. It pained him beyond belief to see her so helpless. Not only could Josie fly, she had at least eight black belts in various martial arts. To see her leaning on someone else that much tore his heart.

He quickly turned back to grabbing the rest of the equipment out of the van, concentrating so hard on the task that he jumped a mile when Jill appeared at his elbow.

"Jonathan, I needed to talk to you without Josie overhearing," she said urgently.

"What about?" he asked quickly, inwardly terrified she'd ask him how he felt about her patient. Since Will had tasked him to be here, surely she had to be wondering if he was actually up to the job and if he had ulterior motives…

"Josie hasn't flown since the accident," Jill said, her face a mask of worry. "I honestly expected her to fly, at least here at her home. But she just kept leaning on me. She's putting on a very brave face, I know you've seen that, but she hasn't so much as hovered an inch since she got hurt. All her tests are normal, there's no reason why she can't, physically."

Jonathan stared at her for a second in confusion. Well, of _course_ Josie hadn't flown yet. Her husband had died the last time she'd flown. She'd failed to save him the last time she'd flown. And he knew _Jill_ knew that too. There'd be plenty of psychologists in and out of Josie's room during her stay at the hospital. And if it was obvious to Jonathan, surely it must be obvious to a trained professional nurse like Jill.

"What can I do?" he asked, his face showing some of the skepticism he was feeling. Couldn't they just leave Josie alone for a little while? Give her some time to deal with everything? Sighing internally, Jonathan knew they couldn't. Jetstream was needed, even without The Commander, and superheroes couldn't just lay down the cape when the world needed their protection so badly. And it just wasn't fair.

"Look, her doctors have talked to me. We understand why she doesn't feel she can fly anymore, believe me, I've tended to more than one superhero that's felt the same! But we were hoping that maybe you could help her find her wings again," she said earnestly.

Jonathan stared at her. Josie had been seen by plenty of psychologists, psychiatrists, empaths, and psychics. She had the best psychological care available. Why in the world would they be asking _him_ to…

"Jonathan, the brain is more than thoughts and chemicals. There's a reason why psychology is so imprecise. We can use all the latest techniques, all the best medications, but sometimes you just need to trust your instincts and go with your gut."

"So who's gut picked me?" Jonathan asked, his voice almost squeaking.

"The Peacemaker," Jill said. Warren Peace's mother, one of the most powerful empaths in the superhero community, had picked him as the person to help Josie? "Also Dr. Egret, The Mentalist, The Dreamer, and a half-dozen other psychiatrists. They can help Josie over the worse of her depression and keep her on a mostly even keel, but having someone outside of a clinical setting that's willing to help her will do her the most good."

Jonathan's mouth opened and closed a few times in shock at that statement, which Jill seemed to take for assent.

"I'm glad you agree," she said a bit impishly, and swept inside with the last of the boxes.

"But…"

"Josie's waiting for you," Jill called over her shoulder. Bowing to the inevitable, Jonathan entered the Stronghold house.

Jill rapidly installed everything she'd need to help Josie in the next two months while Jonathan twiddled his thumbs and felt very useless. Josie was sitting on, or rather in, the end of the couch, her head supported and pillows propped up around her to keep her upright. Jonathan perched on the middle, feeling like he was sitting on pins.

"This is frustrating," Josie said finally, listening to Jill putter around upstairs. Jonathan dared a look up. They were no longer in the neutral ground of the hospital, and he wasn't sure how to act yet. All the confidence he'd built up in the previous week had deserted him. "I can't even comb my own hair, brush my own teeth, or feed myself…"

She trailed off into silence, and her eyes alighted on a picture on the mantle, a family photo of the Strongholds that must have been from this past Christmas. Josie's lips tightened, an expression he now recognized that meant she was holding back tears.

"I tried to hold on Jonathan. He told me to let go, that he'd be fine and that I'd catch him after he destroyed the missile. But I _knew_ the missiles were powerful. And I should have known they were trapped. I knew that, I _knew_ it!"

Jonathan heard her voice her despair for the first time, and was terrified of uttering a platitude to calm her. There'd been enough visits in her hospital room for her to get sick of them by now. Desperate, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, something that he'd used in class more than once. Unfortunately it didn't pass through his mental filters first.

"If you'd have known for sure, would have died with him?"

Horror replaced sadness as the blood drained from Josie's face. Jonathan prayed for the earth to swallow him up. He's used that line to remind his kids that going down in a blaze of glory was all well and good for the movies, but heroes only did that as a total last resort. If Jetstream had gone down with her husband… But he hadn't been in her shoes.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan gulped.

Josie shook her head slowly, color coming back to her cheeks.

"No. No, you're right. I just can't keep thinking… You're right Jonathan. They were telling me that all week but..." she said, and closed her eyes. Her brow creased as she opened them again, something like anger flashing in their depths.

"Sometimes I hate being a hero," she said at length. "What other job are you on call twenty-four hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year with no chance for an uninterrupted vacation? We missed Will's fifth, seventh, and thirteenth birthday, three Christmases, and five anniversaries. I don't want to miss anything else!"

Jonathan could hear a lot of frustration in her voice, and knew she wasn't saying anything that hadn't crossed the mind of any career superhero at least once a day. He _knew_ she loved hero work; more than one superhero had gone inactive after having kids, but she'd happily persisted. The Commander and Jetstream weren't known as the best just because of their excellent record, but because they'd been active for over twenty years.

On the other hand… Jonathan had never had much to miss, with no wife, no kids, not even a pet to worry about. And he'd dropped out of hero work when it was clear he wasn't precisely needed in The Commander's life anymore. He had a reasonably clear view of what someone like Jetstream meant to the world… and he had another perspective that maybe Josie had never heard.

"Will's eighteen," he said very gently. "He understands, really he does. I remember taking about things like that in class with him. He said one of the coolest Christmases he ever had was the one where he got to watch both of you defeat Jack Frost on TV."

Josie smiled weakly, but looked mollified.

"That one was pretty fun," she said, looking off into the distance. "It… It hasn't been that long, has it? It just feels like years since last Monday."

Jonathan nodded his head in agreement. It seemed like years to him already.

"I'm tired," she whispered. "I'm tired of being brave an tough. I just want to give up and rest."

"Will's handling things pretty well," Jonathan offered cautiously. The poor kid barely had a second to himself, other than when he was sleeping. But the few moments he had a day to spend with his mother seemed to help them both tremendously.

Josie sighed. "I should be out there with him. But even if I wasn't hurt, I haven't done solo work in years. Steve always-."

She stumbled to a halt over her husband's name and finally lost her own battle against sorrow.

"Josie, Josie, please, I didn't mean-," Jonathan said quickly, digging out tissues to dry her tears. But when he leaned over to touch her face, she collapsed against him. Heavy as her casts were, and as afraid as he was to touch her anywhere, he found himself trapped as she sobbed into his shoulder. But unlike her hears at the hospital, which had been nearly silent to avoid attracting attention, now she was actually sobbing, almost screaming into his shirt.

Very gingerly he tried to support her, uncertain at what to do next. He'd made a royal mess at things already! Jonathan had never been the kind of person to rage against the world… but then again he'd never had a reason to. However, he'd had Warren Peace in his class (after they'd evened out the curriculum in the wake of the Homecomming Attack), a kid with a reason to rage if there ever was one, and he'd had to counsel the hotheaded boy more than once. Jonathan _did_ have experience with touchy personalities of all types, even if they were usually students more concerned about who was in love or not in love with them rather than having to deal with a major trauma like death.

But he thought there was something he could try at least. It was either that or wait until Jill came back and found Josie collapsed against him.

"Josie, please, just tell me what's wrong. Maybe we can do something about it together." For the second and probably not last time today, Jonathan wished he could just disappear. What sounded like polite compassion from teacher to student in school sounded far worse here. Her husband was _dead_, what could he do about _that?_

_I'm an idiot,_ Jonathan thought as Josie stiffened, probably in outrage. At least she couldn't slap him, since her arms were broken, but she _could_ kick him in a very uncomfortable place.

"I can't- I don't- I don't know what we can do. But… I'll tell you when I do," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. Having her cradled against him, the warmth of her hair tickling his neck, was making his ears get very hot, and tingles chased themselves over his body. He'd have sold his soul back in high school for a situation like this… not the circumstances leading up to it, but…

"Anytime," Jonathan said with relief that she hadn't yelled at him to get out. Josie stiffened again and winced.

"Jonathan, I can't really sit up by myself."

"Oh, right," he said belatedly, and carefully tried to push her back into the support of the couch. Carefully, because the only places he could touch her without hurting her was below the waist. And broken arms or no, Josie was still a world-class martial artist.

Jill saved them both from embarrassment by arriving at that very moment.

"So, ready for some real food?" she asked cheerfully. It shattered the somewhat quiet mood and Jonathan felt a flash of resentment.

"I'm not really hungry," Josie said quietly. Jill was pointedly ignoring the signs of tears on Josie's face, and didn't even really look at Jonathan at all. Which was good, because he might spontaneously combust or something equally unfortunate if anything else happened today.

"You have to eat to get better, and if you don't get something into your stomach, you aren't going to be able to keep those pills down," Jill persisted, and Josie sighed in resignation as Jill went to get her standing.

"Would you come by tomorrow Jonathan?" Josie asked him, almost looking hopeful.

"Absolutely, I'll be here," he said instantly. How many conversations had he had like this with The Commander? The Commander had never _asked_ him for help, but he would muse things aloud, and Jonathan would be there nodding his head, saying yes to every word. But now every yes brought him something so much more than a fraction of reflected glory.

And this was possibly the best thing he'd ever done.

* * *

Jonathan found himself returning the next day, and the next, and the next. Josie, wonder of wonders, didn't seem to mind his company, or his occasional clumsy comments. She even seemed to enjoy his conversation! Even when Will was there (a rare occurrence), Josie didn't ask Jonathan to go. And while she didn't exactly get more cheerful with each day, she seemed to be able to handle her grief better.

While she brooded occasionally, there was no more veiled talk that she might be better off dead. There were still bad days, normal days and even good ones were there as well. But there was also no talk of taking up her cape again, not even after the casts came off.

Josie wiggled her stiff fingers experimentally, and then clutched her mug in a death grip to keep it from spilling. Two months in casts had left her nearly immobile, but after a few days of intense physical therapy, Jill had finally gone back to the hospital, saying Josie could take over her own physical care. She couldn't quite do everything yet, but she was at least able to feed herself again, and Jonathan was the recipient of the first pot of coffee she'd been able to make for herself in months.

"You like the coffee?" she asked. He nodded, smiling broadly.

"Liar," she accused with a smile. "It's only freeze-dried grounds, but anything I can drink on my own is perfect. And the heat helps."

"It's great," he insisted. Despite her cheer, there was a brittleness about her that warned him that it might be a bad day today. Being out of the casts and on her own again was just one more step toward going back to a world that she didn't want anymore.

"Thanks for being here anyway. I think I scared away everyone else," she said, her smile fading. Jonathan didn't exactly want to contradict her, as he relished the time alone with her, but after she'd come back from the hospital, she'd really had no visitors. Still, maybe they were just respecting her privacy.

"Why?" he asked honestly.

"Jonathan please, don't play dumb," she said, her voice sharper. "I'm a walking reminder of what happened, and who would honestly want to see me?"

"I don't think of you like that!" he protested. That brought her up short.

"I thought that Will asked you to come…"

"He did, but if you would have let me, I'd have volunteered. You're- you're a wonderful person Josie. It wasn't your fault-."

"Don't say that!" she shouted. Shoving away from the table, she fled out of the room faster than Jonathan could follow. He was torn between leaving because he'd managed to offend her and staying to apologize. _Everyone_ was saying Steve's death wasn't her fault, and she had to be sick of it. He knew that, he really did, but he hated seeing her beating herself up on days like this.

Normally Jonathan would have hid in a hole for a week to regain his courage, but this was _Josie_, and he couldn't let her down. Taking a deep breath, he went looking for her. It took him a good fifteen minutes to find where she had hidden herself. She wasn't in the kitchen, porch, den, or backyard. She hadn't locked herself in the bathroom either. She wasn't in the attic or basement, her bedroom, or even the Secret Sanctum (which he'd dared last; Jill and Jonathan had been granted access in case of emergencies). But finally a breath of fresh air in the hallway and the sound of a muffled sob led him to her.

He followed it through Will's room (the walls plastered with band, sports, and movie posters interspersed with snapshots of family and friends, the floor littered with weight equipment and dirty clothes) and out the window. The roof from the den was right under there, and this must have made a handy thinking spot for Will. Now Josie was out there, her knees folded to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, her face buried in her sleeves and her sobs muffled by the cloth.

"Josie?" he called softly, poking his head out the window. No response. Taking a deep breath, he let himself out onto the roof and sat down next to her. At least she didn't flinch away.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry," he said sincerely. After a moment, Josie raised her head, wiping away her tears.

"I get told that every time I'm in counseling, 'It wasn't your fault, The Commander made his own choice, there wasn't anything more you could have done, you're holding yourself back, you could fly again if you really wanted to-,'" her tone was bitter, but there were undercurrents of sadness and frustration, almost anger in there as well.

And while the tone might like any angsty teen he'd had in class, this wasn't just adolescent raging against the system. This was a deeply sad heroine who just wanted some time free of the endless pressures of grief and her duty. Jonathan hadn't exactly given up on Jill's command to get Jetstream to fly again, but he refused to push Josie into anything. He genuinely enjoyed being with her, and he wasn't going to become yet another counselor in her life. He wanted to be her friend, not her doctor.

"They're worried about Jetstream," he said, looking at her sideways. "That's why they say those things. I'm worried about _you."_ That confession didn't quite give him the feeling of panic it might have a few weeks ago, but he still had to fight to get it out.

"Then why _do_ you keep coming around?"

"I just…"

Neither of them could think of a way to finish the conversation, nor were they ready to, so both fell silent.

"Will used to come out here all the time when he needed to think about something," Josie said, breaking the quiet. "I used to worry so much that he'd fall off and hurt himself."

"You can't fall, you can fly," Jonathan said without thinking.

"I don't want to…" Josie whispered.

"But you loved to fly. I remember in school you'd even fly to every class!"

"And you'd try to look up my skirt," Josie quipped, momentarily distracted.

"You never wore skirts," he said instantly. Josie smiled at that and Jonathan blushed.

_I'm forty-two years old,_ Jonathan was thinking. _And I'm sitting on a roof with the woman of my dreams; having a conversation I should have had when we were sixteen. Life is _strange!

"You noticed?" Josie asked.

"I noticed everything about you."

"Do you still?" she persisted. Jonathan nodded shyly.

"Other than Will, you're the only one who notices me, _Josie_. Like you said, the rest of them all want Jetstream back."

There was another long silence as crickets started to chirp.

"I'm afraid," she whispered. "I flew as high and hard and as fast as I could and it wasn't enough."

Jonathan held his tongue that time. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice of saying something she'd already heard too many times to count. And probably all of them put far more eloquently than he could ever say.

"Then what do you want to do?" he asked instead. Josie looked frustrated, but not at him, and finally uncurled from her ball.

"I really can't just say in the house forever, can't I?" she asked.

"Well, I'd be happy to keep you company, but you might get tired of-."

"No I wouldn't! God Jonathan, you're the only person besides Will I can talk to."

"I… thought you were mad at me for what I said," he confessed.

"I wasn't really mad at you, I was just mad at… life, I suppose. I'm sorry I ran off… That was awfully high school of me, wasn't it?"

Jonathan gestured to the roof and Josie sighed.

"_Very_ high school," she said ruefully. Another sigh and Josie turned toward him.

"I really can't sit around the house anymore." She stared up into the sky and shuddered. "I'll… I'll go back to Master Kwan. My sensei," she explained. "He won't let me get into these blue funks. Oh dear… He's going to be mad that I haven't practiced in so long!"

"You have a good excuse," Jonathan pointed out. Josie reached out and took his hand, her fingers cool and strong around his.

"No, I really don't," she corrected gently.

* * *

That was the turning point. Though Josie didn't talk about taking up her cape again, the bouts of tears and temper began to be outnumbered by better days of cheer and productivity. Her grief gradually became something she could shoulder, instead of being crushed beneath it.

In addition to taking up her martial arts practice, she started working at the Bureau of Superpowered Affairs, handling public relations problems, acting as a liaison between superheroes and citizens, freeing up other heroes to do their jobs. She gave advice to young heroes, and even helped others who had suffered losses like hers. And when she wasn't doing that, she was helping Will and his friends, now known as the Champions of Justice, with their Secret Sanctum.

Slightly to Jonathan's surprise, she'd let her son take over the Stronghold's Sanctum with very little fanfare. She'd quietly asked Jonathan to help her move Steve's trophies into storage, and if the ones she carried ended up a bit damp by the time they got to the vault, then Jonathan pretended he hadn't noticed.

Even after school started up again, Jonathan found himself at Josie's house nearly every day. He quickly realized that he saw her far more often than he saw Medulla, Boomer, or any of his other co-workers.

The two of them ate meals together, sometimes sharing them with Will when he was home, went to movies, or took long walks. A few times Josie had pulled out old photo albums to show him some of Will's baby pictures or even some of her at a young age. Later, nearly eight months after Steve's death, she would pull out the family photos. Though her smiles at these were tinged with sadness, she could face them without flinching or breaking down.

"They're right, the counselors. It's better to remember something good when I have to take a stroll down memory lane," she'd said once.

And Jonathan… lived each day in a daze of happiness. He was practically dating Josie, though he didn't dare say it or think it too hard, and she actually seemed to enjoy being around him. Everything was better when he was with her, and Josie smiled at him, genuinely, when he came around. He didn't want to tempt fate by _saying_ they were dating, but he wasn't sure what else to call it.

At the very least, he'd found the best friend he'd ever had. Josie actually listened to him and paid attention to his opinions and stories. She laughed at his jokes and seemed honestly blue when he couldn't come by. The Bureau had metaphorically thrown up its collective hands when Josie hadn't returned to hero-work, and the pressure on her abruptly stopped. That, more than anything, made the real difference. Without the constant, if well-meaning, nagging to fly again, Josie concentrated all her attention on those around her, especially Jonathan. And Jonathan could concentrate on what he'd always wanted to do, making Josie happy.

Jonathan's only worry in this was Will… something that the young Stronghold chose to tackle head-on.

Will had actually come to see him at his house, some ten months after Steve's death, purposefully dropping by when Josie was at her dojo and he knew Jonathan would be home alone.

"Will!" he said, staring at the young man on his front porch with utter confusion. "Um… what a surprise. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, actually, mind if I come in?"

Jonathan stood aside, waving Will in and feeling his heart sinking into his shoes. The jig was up. Will knew Jonathan was in love with his mother. He felt resentful about Jonathan taking his dad's place. He was here to make sure Jonathan stayed away…

"It's about Mom," Will started, and Jonathan shut the door, feeling his worst fears already coming true. And it wouldn't really do any good to argue with someone who was stronger than The Commander. It he wanted to guard his mother's honor, Jonathan really couldn't stop him… and that made him feel horribly panicky.

"Well, I, you asked me to look after her and-," Jonathan said quickly, trying to defend himself by reminding Will that it had been all _his_ idea, not Jonathan's…

"Whoa, hang on, I'm not here to ask you to stop seeing her," Will said quickly. Jonathan stopped short in his babbling.

"Mom's _happy,_" Will said fiercely. "I haven't seen her smile and laugh so much since Dad died. And if I asked you to stay away, she'd kill me."

Jonathan's mouth dropped open. Of all the possible outcomes of this conversation, this one hadn't even crossed his mind.

"But- Steve-," he started.

"Hey, you forget who my best friend is. Warren knows about losing his dad too. He talked some sense into my head a while back… It's _weird,_ seeing Mom with someone else, but I know you. You'd never, ever hurt her, and you'd stand between her and Hell if you had to. And if you're the guy making her happy, then I'm not going to tell you to stay away. Just take care of her, because I sure can't, not with everything going on," Will explained. "You love her, don't you?"

Jonathan shut his mouth, thought about lying, and then realized he'd rather jump off of Sky High than deny it.

"More than anything in the world," he said sincerely.

"Maybe you should tell her," Will suggested with a bit of a shrug.

"You really don't mind?"

"No, not at all," Will said, and then stepped forward to shake Jonathan's hand. Jonathan being too stunned to respond in any kind of intelligent fashion, Will simply left after that, leaving the former sidekick with a whole lot to think about.

* * *

Jonathan couldn't quite get up the courage to spill his guts to Josie, not quite yet, but he didn't stay away, not even a single day. But now it was just over a year since Steve's death, and the newspapers and TV were full of memorial pieces. Maxville itself was having some huge memorial gathering downtown, and Josie was getting pretty restless from all the relentless media about her late husband.

"Jonathan, I really can't stand being in the city today. How about we take a drive somewhere?" she'd suggested when he got in that day. That had been the finest idea he'd heard all week, and twenty minutes later, Josie was driving them up a bluff on the edge of Maxville, one that offered one of the finest views of the city.

It also, Jonathan belatedly realized, contained a small cemetery, old and rarely used.

"Are you sure you want to come up here?" he asked, as she drove up the last of the switchback turns. It wasn't that he thought the cemetery would exactly be bad for her as-. Well, ok, yes, he thought it'd be upsetting.

"Very sure." There was a note of steel in her voice that brooked no argument, and Jonathan kept his mouth shut. Something told him she had a very specific purpose for coming here.

After parking, Josie led him through the small cemetery until they reached the edge overlooking the city. The view was spectacular, and gravestones or not, the cemetery was a beautiful place, with large trees and lots of wildflowers. Josie picked a bunch of the colorful blossoms as they walked, and as they stood admiring the view of Maxville, she stooped and placed them on a grave.

Looking down, Jonathan was shocked to realize it was Steven Stronghold's grave, the simple granite tombstone inscribes with his name, the dates, and "Husband, Father, Hero." Since Jonathan had helped carry The Commander's coffin to the superhero cemetery at Arlington only a year ago, he was understandably surprised.

"But I thought-," he blurted.

"Everyone thought that," she interrupted. "There wasn't much left to bury, there rarely is in cases like that, but what was found, they buried here. There are too many mad scientists and evil geniuses to have all the superhero bodies in one place. Remember that zombie army led by the Bone Baron back in the fifties? That's what can happen. So they have the ceremony at Arlington and actually bury them at home."

"Oh," Jonathan said faintly, feeling ten times more awkward than he ever had before.

Josie's expression was tender as she got up from placing the flowers on the grave. Her voice had been dispassionate as she explained to Jonathan, but now it softened.

"I'm sorry Steven," she whispered. "I love you, and I miss you. I know you realize that."

Jonathan felt like he was intruding and wanted to sidle off to give her some time alone. But she grabbed his hand to stop him, and he froze.

"I didn't come here to make you uncomfortable Jonathan," she said softly. "But… I had questions."

Jonathan stared and nodded slightly.

"Everyone for the past year has tried to get me to fly. But you never really brought it up unless I did, and you never pushed me. Why?"

"You… I… I…" Jonathan had never felt so tongue-tied in his life. He didn't know what she wanted to hear.

"Everyone wants me to get well, get over it, be better."

"Everyone wants Jetstream to get better. I just want you to be happy," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Josie took his other hand and made him look at her.

"You mean that?" she asked. Jonathan blushed, wondering if he'd said too much, and never mind what Will had said two months back. But if he'd said too much, would Josie be looking at him like that? Jonathan went for broke.

"You're a wonderful person," he said slowly, wondering when he was going to wake up.

"And?" she asked, her eyes luminous. Words began spilling out, things he'd kept inside for decades.

"You're beautiful, kind, strong, smart, determined-," he paused for air and locked his eyes with hers, putting every ounce of sincerity into them. "And you can fly."

"Can I?" she asked, her voice almost teasing. Wondering at this new lightness in her, Jonathan glanced over at the bouquet on Steve's grave. Around the stem a gold and diamond band glittered.

With awe Jonathan realized that Josie hadn't come up here to mourn. She'd come to say good-bye.

"Of course you can fly," Jonathan insisted, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Show me," she whispered.

_Now or never…_ Jonathan realized. Blood rushing in his ears and skin tingling, he leaned up to give her a kiss, and feared his heart would stop when she kissed him back. He'd never felt such euphoria before, it was like he was floating…

Wait, he actually _was._ Josie's strong arms were tight around him, and their feet were nowhere near solid ground. He opened his eyes all the way as their lips reluctantly parted, and smiled at the joy on Josie's face.

"Josie, I love you and-."

She stopped his lips with another kiss.

"I love you too Jonathan."

And above the city of Maxville, both of them were flying.


End file.
